


unmade

by MaliciousVegetarian



Series: Geralt Whump Week 2020 [REUPLOAD] [6]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:42:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26713927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaliciousVegetarian/pseuds/MaliciousVegetarian
Summary: Geralt is forcibly turned back into a human. Jaskier and Yennefer deal with the aftermath
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Geralt Whump Week 2020 [REUPLOAD] [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943452
Comments: 2
Kudos: 93





	unmade

**Author's Note:**

> Edit 9/28/2020 - This is a reupload of a previously posted fic. I deleted all my witcher fic during a Bad Brain Time, and am slowly replacing things.
> 
> Here it is: the last Geralt whump week fic I actually wrote, this one based on the prompt Monster. As always, thanks to WingedQuill for looking this over, and for letting me use this idea, which she originally came up with. Also, thanks to everyone from the dead dove discord server where this was originally developed.
> 
> Warnings: torture

Jaskier immediately knows something is wrong when Yennefer portals into his rooms at Oxenfurt. His first clue is that Yen has portalled into his rooms at Oxenfurt, something that never happens.

But even if this was some bizarre alternate universe where she popped in for tea on alternating Saturdays, he would have known something was wrong by the look on her face. He doesn’t know how to describe it. Her jaws are set and her brow is furrowed and there’s something awful about her eyes.

“You need to come with me,” she says without preamble. “It’s Geralt.”

As soon as she says that, Jaskier half rises from the chair he was sitting in. “Is he -”  
She shakes her head. “He’s alive, but - he’s not himself, and he’s not well. Please, come with me.”

Jaskier half expects the earth to shake in half or something to be struck by lightning at the sound of Yennefer saying please to him, but that slight smugness is quickly taken over by worry.

“I will, I - can you tell me what’s wrong?”

She glances up at the ceiling and breathes in deeply. “They - whoever had him changed him. I don’t know how they did it, but they took away his mutations. I’ve every reason to believe that he’s human now.”

Jaskier sucks in air through his teeth. “Fuck. What did they - How did he come to you?”

“I found him. I don’t know where he had been staying. I didn’t recognize him at first.”

Jaskier nods, feeling numb. His brain can’t process it, won’t until he sees Geralt for himself. “How is he?”

Yennefer seems to understand what he’s trying to say. “Not well. He’s running a fever, and he’s malnourished and exhausted. And he’s terrified, seemingly of everything.”

Jaskier’s heart breaks a little bit at that, but he nods and holds out a hand to her. She takes it.

He’s never been in Yennefer’s house before, but he probably should have expected it to be this fancy. There’s purple patterned wallpaper, and at any other time he would be teasing her about it, but now he just follows her quietly down the hallway.

When he sees the figure on the bed, he realizes why Yennefer didn’t recognize him. If he hadn’t been told it was Geralt, he wouldn’t have either. The man is painfully thin, wearing ragged clothing. Jaskier can see new scars on the visible skin, as well as half healed cuts and bruises. His hair is cut short, and an awful gray-brown color that Jaskier refuses to believe was what it looked like originally. His eyes are closed, and he’s twitching in his sleep.

Jaskier realizes he has a hand over his mouth, and he’s tearing up. Yen looks at him solemnly. “I know,” she says, then moves into the room to check on Geralt.

He stirs when she enters, looking at her with wild, confused, hazel eyes, and trying to pull away from her before realizing who it is. Even then, he only relaxes slightly. “Yen?” he asks, and oh, his voice. It’s rough with disuse or damage, Jaskier can’t tell which, and it’s so small.

“It’s just me,” she says, sitting down next to him. “I brought Jaskier here, do you want to see him?”

There’s a long pause during which Jaskier would swear his heart doesn’t beat, and then Geralt nods once.

“Alright,” she says, slowly reaching out a hand to push his hair back. He lets her, but tenses up, and Jaskier can tell that Yen notices. “Let’s get you some clean clothes, alright?”

He just closes his eyes.

Yennefer looks up and catches Jaskier’s horrified gaze, and beckons him into the room with a tilt of her head. She puts a hand on his shoulder briefly on her way out.

As he approaches the bed, Jaskier isn’t sure what he’s going to say. But as he sits down, he can feel himself slipping into the mindset he takes up whenever Geralt has been injured on their travels. “Hey,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady and cheerful, “you missed me so much Yen had to go get me for you, yeah?”

Against all odds, Geralt gives him a small, relieved smile. “Jaskier,” he says, and his voice is still awful. “You’re here.”

“Yes,” he says simply. “I am.”

Geralt leans into the touch after a moment of resisting it, and Jaskier puts a hand on his shoulder and slowly pulls him in close, giving him plenty of time to pull away. Geralt doesn’t, although he does tense up when Jaskier tries to put an arm around him. So they just stay there, Geralt lying against him.

Geralt is starting to drift off when Yen comes back, but he snaps back to awareness when they hear her footsteps. He seems to pick them up a moment after Jaskier does, and it’s the first time he realizes that Geralt’s senses are dulled, unused to working at this level.

Yen gives them a small smile when she comes in, then turns her attention to the work in front of them.

“I’ll draw you a bath, alright? You can manage that?”

Geralt nods. He’s starting to look tired again.

“Good.” Yen says. She reaches out a hand to him. He takes it, and she helps him to his feet. He’s unsteady on them, barely able to walk under his own power. Jaskier remembers Yennefer saying that she wasn’t sure where he’d been staying before she found him. Gods, how had he managed to survive to this point? If he had been living on the streets - Jaskier can’t let himself think of that right now. Geralt needs him.

Between the two of them, they guide him into the bathing room. The tub is already filled.

-

When they help Geralt out of his clothing, Jaskier has to strangle the gasp that rises in his throat at the sight of the two thick, straight scars on his stomach. They’re the reddish purple of a fairly recent wound. Anger is rising in his stomach, because what the hell did they do to his witcher? Whoever they are, he hates them, wants them to burn.

Revenge isn’t the objective right now, so Jaskier somehow manages to compose himself. Geralt sinks into the tub slowly, like he can’t believe this is real. Yen kneels at the side of it, and after a minute, Jaskier follows suit.

“Let us take care of you, alright?” she says, dragging a hand back and forth through the water. Geralt nods, eyes closed.

Jaskier can see all the damage laid out, becomes far too familiar with it as the two of them clean Geralt. In addition to the large scars he’d noticed earlier, there are small ones all over his body, and Yen winces whenever her hands pass over them. Jaskier’s too afraid to ask what that’s about. His wrists have half-healed, clearly infected wounds where he must have been shackled. Perhaps most worryingly is the inflamed red cut on his side. He’d bet anything that it’s the source of Geralt’s fever.

When they’re done with the bath, he and Yen clean and dress the newer wounds. Geralt manages to dress himself, despite Jaskier’s slight reservations about it. The small exertions he’s made have clearly exhausted him, and they have to half carry him back to the bedroom.

“You need food,” Jaskier says, fussing with the blankets. Geralt shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

“Don’t think I could manage it.”

“The bard’s right, you need it,” Yen says, frowning. “Is your stomach upset? I can bring you something for that.” Geralt shakes his head again.

“‘M not hungry.”

Jaskier and Yennefer exchange a that’s not good look. Geralt’s clearly malnourished, to the point that Jaskier can see most of his bones through his skin. He’s a little horrific to look at, although it’s a sentiment Jaskier would never express.

“You have to eat something,” Jaskier says gently. “Clear broth, perhaps?” He glances at Yen, since this is, after all, her house, and he doesn’t want to overstep. She nods approvingly.

“I’ll try,” Geralt promises, although Jaskier gets the sense he’s saying to make them happy, not out of any kind of self preservation. Honestly, this witcher will be the death of him.

Food is provided, and Geralt manages most of the bowl before pushing it away. It’s barely enough to sustain him, but Jaskier decides this fight can wait until tomorrow. The witcher - the ex-witcher, Jaskier thinks with horror - is beginning to drift off, head leaning back against the pillow.

“One of us should stay here tonight,” Yen says in a low voice. Not low enough for Geralt to miss it, apparently, because his half closed eyes fly open.

“I can’t stay,” he says, sounding frantic. “I have to warn the others. I should never have stayed this long in the first place, I -” He’s cut off as he tries to stand and almost falls over, his face going deathly white. Jaskier is next to him in a flash, taking most of his weight and guiding him back onto the bed.

After that display, Geralt turns to Yen, desperation in his eyes. “Will you go? Please, they need to know.”

“Go where?” Yennefer asks, genuinely confused.

“Kaer Morhen. The others need to know, if they catch them -”

“The other witchers?” Jaskier asks, pushing a lock of hair out of Geralt’s eyes, trying his best to soothe him. His efforts are mostly ignored. Geralt’s breathing too fast, and when Jaskier takes his hand, he grips back fiercely, although it’s still a shadow of his old strength.

“Yes,” he says, locking his eyes with the bard. “If they find them - if they find them, they’ll take them and do this to them.”

“They’ll do what they did to you?” Yennefer asks gently. Geralt nods, closing his eyes.

“And it wasn’t - personal? It was just because they didn’t want you to be a witcher anymore?” Geralt nods again. When he speaks, his voice is even worse than before.

“They wanted to make me human. So I wouldn’t be a monster any more.”

Jaskier wraps an arm around him, pulling him close. This time, Geralt doesn’t pull away.


End file.
